


Apologies and Gratitudes

by bamboozledeagle



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 19:20:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14479452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamboozledeagle/pseuds/bamboozledeagle
Summary: Donald has saved Fenton five times, and then there's the one time Gizmoduck saves Donald





	Apologies and Gratitudes

Donald Duck has saved Fenton five times and Gizmoduck has saved Donald once. The first time is when he’s a college student.

1

He’s on his way to his differential equations class with his bookbag half zipped and his pencils shoved into his hair, running on three hours of sleep and an absurd amount of coffee. In hindsight, that might be why he hardly reacts when a spaceship flies in out of nowhere and begins to hover over the science building.

He takes a sip of coffee and blinks hard at the aircraft that’s blocking the sun. 

Some of his fellow students are awake enough to get the idea to run away, but Fenton and a couple others are just curious enough to stop and stare. It’s huge, easily covering the building, and is almost entirely purple in color. The students don’t get a lot of time to admire it when something comes out.

A blast of light grazes his head feathers.

He’s stupefied for all of a millisecond when the campus descends into chaos. He runs as fast as he can to the nearest point of relief, the screams of student and faculty alike filling his ears along with the zings that precede the blasts of light from the aliens’ guns. He throws the doors to the science building open and dives inside, ushering the people behind him indoors. The creatures are right behind them, shooting retreating civilians in the back as they advance. A kid he recognizes from his computer science class is hit as he’s running up the steps, so close yet so far from what might have been safety. 

He doesn’t stay to see what the aliens want. As soon as the last able-person enters he slams the doors shut and books it to the lab on the third floor. The only people with access to it are some computer science majors including himself along with some faculty. He scans his card and ducks inside as soon as the lock switches from red to green.

He scurries under a table and scrambles as far back as he can go. His legs are shaking and he’s terrified. What if they come up here? What if they come for him? What if they kill him?

He can’t help the scared yelp he makes when someone – or something - starts pounding on the door.

“Let me in! Please! Someone! Anyone!”

He’s scared, he’s terrified, he doesn’t want to leave the safety of his table, but…

He forces himself to crawl out from under the table and check the door. From the tiny windows on either side, he can see a cat trying to unlock the door across the hallway. He opens the door a smidge, “Here! Over here!” He whispers, terrified that the aliens might hear. He’s still on the floor, his legs too unsteady to hold him, and he hasn’t stopped shaking.

The cat startles at Fenton’s call and without further hesitation rushes into the room and shoves the door closed. “You have to hide me!” the cat begs, “They’re coming for me!”

Fenton feels a chill go down his spine, “Okay, okay, um, think Fenton think!” Fenton hits himself on the head trying to think of a place to hide the cat. There are multiple tables to hide under, but if those creatures are looking for him, they won’t do much. He needs something that will block the cat from view, somewhere no one will look, “The closet! Get in the closet!”

He shoves the cat over to the closet and tears open the box that used to hold old computer parts. It’s mostly empty now that the semester is almost over and people are using the parts for various purposes. He closes the box with the terrified cat inside and shuts the closet door.

He hears chatter from the other side of the door to the lab and through the tiny windows he can see purple. Fenton panics and hides under another table. He screams as the door is blasted off it’s hinges. He desperately covers his beak with his hands.

“Locate the earthling! Scanners say that he’s in this room!”

Multiple aliens enter the lab and Fenton flinches every time something breaks or feet pass by his hiding spot. He curls tightly into a ball and shuts his eyes.

“I can smell fear.” One of them says.

Fenton cries out when a hand grabs ahold of the front of his shirt. He’s hoisted out from under the table and into the air. “Is this him Supreme Commander?”

Fenton thrashes against the grip as much as he can.

He doesn’t hear the Commander respond, “No, you idiot. We’re looking for a cat not a duck!”

He hears the zing of their guns and a crash from shattering glass. He goes stiff and still, waiting for death. “Avenger!” Gravity seizes him, the fist in his shirt vanishing. He lands with a ‘oomph!’ and pinwheels his arms back towards his table. From the safety of the lab furniture he watches the Duck Avenger wail on the aliens. If he weren’t so scared, it would easily be one of the coolest things he’s ever witnessed. In no time at all the group is either knocked out on the floor or frozen in place.

“Are you alright?” The Avenger asks, extending a hand to him.

Fenton’s brain short-circuits. The Avenger saved him. The hero is right in front of him offering a hand to help him up. He takes the hand, still awe-struck, and says dumbly “¿Qué?”

Abruptly, he has a strong desire to smack himself upside the head.

“¿Te lastimaste?” The Avenger repeats without hesitation. Fenton shakes his head, amazed, “You speak Spanish?”

“Enough to get by.” The Avenger smirks and the News Channels really don’t do the duck any justice. His presence fills up the room, his smirk is blinding, and oh no he’s hot.

“Avenger! Focus!” A voice comes from the Hero’s mechanical gauntlet.

“Oh, right!” The Hero blinks, “I’m looking for a Dr. Marco? He’s a professor here? Made plans for a dangerous reactor a week ago?”

“It’s not dangerous!” The cat in the closet yells and falls out of the box when the door opens.

“Uh-huh and I’m a fish. Come on Doc we have to get you out of here.”

“Wait, wait!” The cat protests, stopping the hero from jumping out of the window with him. Dr. Marco gives Fenton a grateful look, “Young man, thank you! You saved my hide!”

“Oh, I didn’t really do much.” Fenton’s face flushes and he plays with his tie bashfully.

“You saved him?” The Avenger asks

“Um-“ Fenton tries to wave him off but Marco cuts in before he can.

“He sure did! He bought me enough time for you to get here Avenger!”

“I-“

“Don’t be so shy, kid. You just saved the planet, or at the very least bought it some time.” The hero praises and if Fenton thought his face was red before, it’s positively scarlet now. In the back of his mind he notes that the Avenger doesn’t look much older than him.

“With all these villains, Duckburg could use more heroes!” The Avenger waves, flying off into the distance. Fenton watches him disappear into the city with only the defeated aliens for company.

A hero…

He pulls his phone out, “M’ma I want to be a superhero.”

…

2

Fenton, for the first time in a month, emerges from the Money Bin Lab in the middle of the day. He’s not entirely aware of the time, the only thing on his mind is the direction of the coffee machine. The one in the lab had exploded a couple hours ago (It was for science) and he’s been reduced to hauling himself up to the break room’s machine on the sixth floor.

“Excuse me?” A voice calls from behind him. He turns to see a Pink Robin with a smile that’s too wide to be natural. “Are you supposed to be here?”

The question is so ridiculous, he just stares at her.

She gives a little cough and asks again.

“Yeah, I work in the lab.” He grouches, giving her a look that says, ‘Are you stupid?’

“I don’t suppose you could prove that? I just want to be sure, you know.” She giggles cutely. He’s not sure why but a part of him dies at the sound. Something about the bird makes him immediately hate her.

He grumbles more and reaches into his pocket to pull out his employee id card. His hand grasps air. He left his wallet in the lab. He wants to lay down on the floor and yell.

“I left my wallet in the lab.”

She nods, still smiling, “I’m sure.”

“Let me just-“ He tries to go back into the elevator, but she steps into his path, “Please exit the premises, Sir.”

“Lady, I work here. I swear.” He tries, he’s not in the mood to deal with this. He doesn’t even know who this bird is.

“Excuse me, Sir!” She calls over his shoulder. He turns and sees a duck in military dress. The duck turns his head and Fenton sweats, he doesn’t look like he’s in a good mood. “Will you please help me remove this…intruder?” She’s smiling a bit more genuinely.

“Oh hey, you’re the new intern, aren’t you?” The military duck greets.

“Why yes I-“ The robin preens

“Fenton, right?” The duck takes his hat off and tucks it under his arm, holding his hand out to shake Fenton’s.

“Y-Yes!” Fenton’s relief is evident, his shoulders sag (when had he tensed up?), and he lights up. His mood improving with the turn of events.

“Nice to meet you. My nephew Dewey told me a lot about you, thanks for looking out for him by the way.”

“Oh, so you’re the famous Uncle Donald!” Fenton grins

“That’s me.” Donald nods and smiles back.

An overly sweet cough comes from the Robin. Her demeanor completely changes when she looks at Donald and the toxic sweetness directed at Fenton has vanished without a trace.

“Mr. Duck it is an honor, I’ve heard so much about you.” She curtseys.

“I’m sorry to say I’ve heard a lot about you too Mrs. Umbridge.” Donald’s stance goes from friendly to cold.

“I’m sorry?” Umbridge smiles innocently and cocks her head to the side, confused.

“You can expect a letter tomorrow from Animal Resources, you’ll have a couple hours to gather your things.”

“I - what?”

“Mrs. Umbridge ever since you were hired the other staff have reported harassment and belittlement. Interestingly enough, the staff in question are all birds of different nationalities. Did you forget, perhaps, that my Uncle is also an immigrant? Or did you think that since he’s out of the country he wouldn’t hear about your…activities.”

“I am the daughter of-“

“The Mayor, I know, and while that might have given you a pass during your time with other businesses, it certainly will not fly at the Money Bin.”

“You do not have the authority!” She says disbelieving and stomps her foot. The robin’s gray head is red under her feathers.

Donald shrugs, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see then. Fenton, I’m going to go get some coffee, you want some?”

“Absolutely.” The two happily make their way to the breakroom leaving a sputtering bird in their wake.

“I’m sorry about her. I would have fired her sooner, but I got a call yesterday and I had to do all the paperwork in the car.” Donald gestures to his Military uniform, “Uncle Scrooge hates electronics, so I had to turn them in today rather than just send an email.”

“I’m just glad you got back when you did, Gyro would have killed me if I never came back with coffee.” Fenton shuts the door behind them, dulling the yells of the bird down the hall.

“Still, I’m sorry.” Donald frowns pouring coffee beans into the machine.

Fenton waves him off, sitting at the only table in the room, “What’s done is done. How’d you recognize me anyway?”

“Oh I, uh, I’m the Secretary.” Donald leans against the counter, his back is to the machine, so he can face Fenton. He’s very nice to look at and the uniform isn’t helping Fenton focus.

“Of Finance?” He says on autopilot.

“No, I’m Scrooge’s Personal Secretary.”

Fenton puts his head on the table and covers himself with his arms, “Oh my god you hired me. How did I forget?”

Donald laughs, and Fenton feels his cheeks grow warm at the sound, “Maybe the bags under your eyes have something to do with it.” His boss purses his bill like he’s thinking. “What happened to your coffee machine?”

“Science.”

“Very important Science I’m sure.” Donald teases.

“It was.”

“Was it worth it?”

Fenton remembers the Robin and Donald must as well because his eyes shine in regret after the question leaves his bill, “No.”

“You can call me and I can bring you some. Coffee I mean. At least until you get a new machine. If you want. As an apology. For Umbridge.” Donald, for some reason, starts speaking in short sentences.

Fenton is about to turn him down, upset over Donald’s sense of responsibility for Umbridge’s actions, but then his mind starts working. He’d get to see Donald again if he brought them coffee. He’d get to see that face more often. “Sure! You’re welcome whenever!” He says too quickly, “I mean! If you really want to and if you have time!”

“Yeah?”

Oh no.

Fenton is in love with that smile.

“Yeah!”

It’s blinding.

…

3

“You have to hide me!”

Donald jumps at the shout, a feathered face abruptly entering his line of sight. His elbow smacks the stack of papers on his desk and half of it falls in the trash can. It’s been months since the Umbridge Incident and Donald has become good friends with the duck in front of him during that time. As promised he brought the two scientists coffee until they got a new machine. He might have stopped going down to the lab after that, if he didn’t enjoy Fenton’s company so much and while he wasn’t as close to Gyro (the bird’s self-assuredness deterring him at first) he could easily consider themselves friends. 

“What did you do?” Donald pays no mind to the papers in the face of Fenton’s urgency.

“I spilled coffee on Gyro’s notes, it took us over fifteen hours of work to write those papers and I ruined it all in an instant! He’s on a duckhunt Donald, he’s going to kill me!”

“Fenton!” Gyro bellows down the hall and Fenton squeaks. Donald pulls him over the desk and shoves him under just as Gyro storms in.

“Where is he, I’m going to kill him!”

“Now, Gyro-“ Donald comes around the desk and the bird seizes his shirt with both hands, balling up the fabric and shoving his face into Donald’s.

“Fifteen. Hours.”

“He jumped out the window.” Donald points at one of the windows in his office. Donald is a terrible liar, lying was much more of Della’s thing, but Gyro is so mad he doesn’t even notice. He lets go of Donald’s shirt and stomps over to the open windows, “You can run Cabrera, but you can’t hide!”

Gyro throws one leg out the window and straddles the sill.

“What are you doing!? You’re going to hurt yourself!” Donald panics, running over.

“I’m going to rip his throat out!” Gyro declares, jumping out before Donald can stop him. Donald watches with alarm as the bird plummets to the ground. They’re on the eleventh (11th) floor, there’s no way he’ll survive.

Fenton runs over to the window, his mouth already forming the first word that will summon his suit, when Lil’ Bulb catches Gyro mid-fall, “He went that way Lil’ Bulb! I’m positive he went into town!”

“You don’t think he’ll destroy the city to get to you…do you?” He asks Fenton, the two ducks leaning against the wall on either side of the window, sagging in relief.

Fenton screws up his face in thought, “…Nah. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He points out, “Gyro didn’t hurt you. I think he just wants me.”

Donald nods.

“Thanks.” The scientist says

“No problem, I know what it’s like.” Donald admits

“You do?”

“This isn’t my first job Fenton.” Donald gives him a fond look.

“Well, no, I just thought – ehm –“

“Thought what?”

“Well you’ve lasted longer as Scrooge’s secretary than any of the others from what I’ve heard, and you’re so…you seem like you’ve really got your life together so I didn’t think…I mean you’re so mature, not like me, I always screw something up…seems like everybody is always upset with me one way or the other…” Fenton crosses his arms in front of him, nervously. Donald was always so on top of things. When he came to the lab he was tired, but not nearly as frenzied and desperate to meet deadlines as Gyro and Fenton were. It wasn’t rare that Donald would bring them some sandwiches to eat while they worked. That Donald could screw up so bad that people would yell at him is hard for Fenton to believe.

“Fenton.” Donald pulls Fenton from his thoughts and he focuses on the white duck next to him, “It was an accident. Accidents happen, and I think I know you well enough to say you won’t let it happen again.”

“Well, yeah, but-“

“Fenton you are easily the smartest animal I’ve ever met and one of the nicest. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Oh, that’s-that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to him.

Donald stands up and heads back over to his desk, picking up scattered papers.

“What are you working on?” Fenton asks, joining him.

“I’m trying to reorganize Scrooge’s schedule; his adventures are sporadic at best and random at worst, so I always end up rescheduling half his appointments.”

Fenton nods and starts picking up the papers in the trash bin.

Donald thanks him when he hands the papers over.

“How long do you think Gyro will keep looking for you?”

“A while, he’s pretty stubborn and I ruined a lot of work.”

“Well, you can hang out up here until he stops if you want.”

“Thanks. I think I will, it’s nice to see the sun.”

Donald snorts, “You two need to get out more. I swear I never see you leave…”

Fenton shrugs, “Gyro used to send me out to get food when we needed it, but your visits pretty much satisfy that need.”

“Sorry, would it help if I stopped?” His friend offers

“No, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat another BLT sandwich without comparing it to yours.” Fenton waves off the apology.

“You like them that much, huh?” Donald grins

“Gyro and I would kill for your food, you should know that.”

“That’s nice to hear, any requests for tomorrow?”

Fenton hesitates, “Do you know how to make Gazpacho?”

“Yeah.” Donald doesn’t hesitate. Fenton is surprised.

“I’ve got a friend in Mexico who showed me how and then he wouldn’t quit making me make it every other week.” The white duck explains

“What’s his name?”

“Panchito Pistoles. He taught me a lot about the Mexican language and people. It’s such a great country.”

“Have you ever been to Puerto Rico?”

“I can’t say that I have, what’s it like?”

“Well, it’s – “ He starts and he doesn’t stop for hours. Donald is enraptured, asking questions and comparing languages, “So, you say ‘guagua’ for bus rather than ‘camión’? Is lentes different as well?”

By the time they realize the hour on the clock, they aren’t even close to finishing their conversation. They walk out of the building together, still talking and come to a stop at Donald’s car.

“Whoops, sorry, I’ll let you get back to the kids.” Fenton says, disappointed that their conversation has to end.

“The kids are out in Alaska with Uncle Scrooge, they won’t be back for some time. Do you want to go out and get something to eat with me?” Donald offers, “We can keep talking, I’d like to hear more if that’s alright?”

Fenton happily agrees and neither of them realizes they’re on a date until they’re both at home silently cursing their own stupidity.

…

4

“Look out!” Donald hauls Fenton bodily out of the way of the boulder.

Dust rains down from the ceiling as the large rock rolls down the sloped hallway, shaking the temple as it goes. Donald and Fenton are in a small niche in the wall just big enough for the two of them. Scrooge and the boys were separated from the two ducks earlier on in the adventure and Launchpad is fixing up the plane.

“You alright?” Donald brushes some dust off of Fenton’s shoulder and looks him over.

“Yeah, are these trips always so exciting?” Fenton asks, bewildered.

“That’s not the word I’d use but yeah. Sorry you got roped into this.” And Donald does look sorry, but it was the kids that wanted Fenton to come along and Scrooge that agreed. Donald only found out at the last minute and ended up roped in as well, so it really wasn’t his fault.

“I feel like you’re always apologizing to me when I should be thanking you for saving my life.”

“Alright then we’ll leave it with a ‘sorry’ from me and a ‘thank you’ from you. Ready? Sorry.”

“Thank you.”

Fenton claps his hands together, “Okay now that that’s sorted out, what now?”

“Now we find the boys and Uncle Scrooge. Hopefully, without either of us setting off any more traps.” Donald leaves the niche and makes his way up the hallway.

“I’m surprised these traps still work, if this temple is as old as the archeologists think, then the tripwires should have decayed and sprang themselves a long time ago.” Fenton notes.

“I’ve decided not to question it, Scrooge’s adventures always have traps or tricks of some kind. You know we went to a plain old haunted mansion once just for Halloween and it turned out to actually be haunted?”

“Ghosts are real?”

“Fenton, I’ve seen a lot of weird things, at this point just assume everything is real.” Donald advises

“Aliens are real.” Fenton remembers.

“Yeah, but don’t tell Uncle Scrooge or he’ll want to go to space and start a business with them if he hasn’t already.”

Fenton chuckles, “I bet he’s already a trade merchant.”

“Yeah and he sells them kernels of corn.” Donald snickers

“He’s super popular with the tiny ones, they’re probably called Microducks.” Fenton laughs.

“He’ll sell them three kernels at a time.” Donald jokes.

“They’ll pay him two gold coins for his trouble.” Fenton wheezes out and Donald can’t help but laugh at the absurdity.

“They’ll have to build a freight ship.” Donald barely manages to get out.

“It’ll hold twenty kernels.”

They’re both laughing so hard their sides hurt.

“That’s the hardest I’ve laughed in a while.” Donald admits, using his hat to dry his eyes while Fenton uses his tie to do the same, “Me too.”

They calm down and start walking again.

“Hey Don? Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Fenton fiddles with his tie, anxiously, unsure if bringing it up is a good idea.

“Fire away.” Donald gives him the go ahead.

“About Dinner a couple nights ago…” He starts, and he struggles to find a way to ask without completely ruining their friendship, “I was just wondering if…were you asking me on a date?”

“Um…” Donald looks incredibly nervous all of a sudden and Fenton is absolutely convinced he’s made a mistake in asking. Obviously, it wasn’t a date. Stupid. He ruins everything eventually.

The temple shudders and more dust rains down, “Oh crap he’s got the treasure, we have to get out!” Donald yells and Fenton abruptly finds himself being carried under one arm. The walls zoom by as Donald tears back down the hallway, he didn’t realize the duck could run so fast. He didn’t realize the duck was strong enough to carry him under one arm.

Focus, Fenton.

The temple crumbles around them and a large chunk comes down in front of them, blocking their path to the exit.

“The niche!” Fenton suggests with a yell

“You think it will hold?” Donald shouts back and makes a break for it anyway.

“Do we have a choice?” Fenton asks as if he isn’t two seconds away from becoming Gizmoduck.

“Wait, look there!” Donald yells and whatever he sees Fenton does not, and it’s alarming when Donald doesn’t slow down as they get closer to the hole.

Donald skids to a stop and slams his fist into the wall. Stones pull away to reveal a secret passage, the niche wasn’t a niche, it was the remains of a large door frame. Donald sprints down into it and lets Fenton go when they come to another door. They’re both hoping it’s the exit.

Donald pushes against it, but the door hardly moves. A sliver of light comes through in patches, wherever this door leads, it’s back into the jungle that surrounds the temple.

“On three?” Donald backs up.

“On three.” Fenton joins Donald and when the number leaves Donald’s bill they both rush the door.

It’s hinges snap and they fall onto the hard, stone door.

“Alright, not what I was expecting, but it worked out.” Fenton pants.

Donald’s hand fumbles for his own and he wheezes, “Would you have liked it to be a date?”

Fenton looks over at the duck beside him. The duck who had just hauled him out of the way of a boulder and carried him to safety, the single parent who’d raised his nephews all by himself for a decade, the secretary who brought two over worked Scientists food just because he thought they looked thin, the soldier that stood up for what he believed was right.

“Yes.”

“Are you free Saturday?”

…

5 (Warning: Injury, blood)

“Oh my god, what happened?” Donald is shocked, rightfully so, when he opens the door to his boat house to find two beaten and bloody superheroes, a side kick with a black eye and dislocated jaw, and a worried little girl standing on his doorstep in the dead of night.

“Hi Mr. Dee.” Launchpad waves, his normally happy composure dulled from exhaustion and worry.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” Fenton says sorrofully, his helmet is cracked and Gosalyn is holding it while Launchpad and Gizmoduck support her father. Darkwing Duck has an ugly gash on his side from Negaduck’s chainsaw, his cape being used as a bandage to stop him from bleeding out, and multiple cuts from Bushroot litter his body. He doesn’t look good.

“Donald, please help us.” Fenton begs and he’s keenly aware about how unfair this is, to shove off his superhero problems onto his boyfriend without any warning whatsoever. Donald didn’t even know he was Gizmoduck, he wouldn’t be surprised if the door was slammed in his face.

Donald doesn’t even bat an eye, there is hardly a moment after the plea is out that the Duck starts ushering them in.

“Bring him in, put him on the couch. I need hot water and the medkit.” Donald pulls a pot out and fills it with water while he speaks, “Launchpad the kit is on the Bridge, under the trap door in the floor, it’s got some rope over it that’s heavy, you’ll have to move it to get the medkit.”

“On it Mr. Dee!”

“Fenton-“ Donald turns to Fenton about to give him instructions. He takes one look at him and changes his mind, “Sit at the table and take your suit off. Young lady-“ Donald turns to Gosalyn who is hovering by her father and bends down, “What’s your name?”

“Gosalyn.” She sniffs

“Gosalyn, I’m going to need some towels, can you go into the laundry room and bring me three of everything you find in the cabinets next to the dryer? It’s in the bottom of the ship, go out the door and there are some stairs down to a second door, the laundry room is right there. Did you get all that?”

“Got it.” Gos nods and takes off, her little feet carrying her over to Fenton to give him back his helmet and then she’s out the door.

“I found it Mr. Dee! Right where you said it was!” Launchpad hauls in the largest medkit Fenton has ever seen and places it on the table. Around it, in the seats, are the dented parts of the Gizmoduck suit. Donald ties his apron on and pulls out some Ziploc bags while the water boils.

“Get the ice packs out and put them in the freezer. When I hand you an Ice Bag put it on your jaw and your eye, Launchpad. Fenton, put yours on your cheek, do you have any other injuries?” Donald asks, zipping up the first bag and handing it to Launchpad who does as ordered. Donald starts filling another bag.

“No, but my ribs hurt.”

Donald stops and sets the bag down, “Launchpad can you fill the rest?”

He comes over, “Let me check and make sure you didn’t break anything.”

“Is this a good idea, shouldn’t you be focused on DW?” Fenton protests.

“I can’t do anything for him until I have rubber gloves on and I have hot water. I am not removing his cape until I know I can handle his injury.” Donald puts pressure on his ribs and the pain flairs, “From 1 to 10 how’s the pain?”

“I’d give it a 5.”

Donald hums, “I don’t feel any oddities and since it’s low I’m going to assume a fracture at worst, but you are going to the hospital later. I’d rather not have to see my boyfriend choking on his own blood.”

He stands and goes back over to LP.

“Is there anything else I can do to help, Mr Dee?”

“Call me Donald for one and I’m going to need your help later, we have to clean DW’s wound and he is not going to be happy about it.”

“I found the towels!” Gosalyn comes through the door swamped in towels. Donald rushes over to alleviate her burden and he sets them down on the table next to the medkit. Donald checks the water in the pot and says, “Okay, that’s everything. Now I can-“ He stops when he catches sight of Gos.

“Oh boy, uh, Gosalyn you might not want to be here for this.”

“What? Why not?” The girl challenges

“Kiddo, I have to clean DW’s wound and that is going to be very painful for him.” Donald squats down so he can be at eye level with her, “That means he’s going to scream and I don’t think you need to hear it.”

“I’ll take her home.” LP offers, but Donald shakes his head, “I need you here.”

“Then I’ll take her home.” Fenton stands and Donald frowns, “No, you aren’t going anywhere with busted ribs.”

“Well she can’t stay here!” The Scientist argues.

“No. She can’t.” Donald affirms and walks over to the door, “Come with me Gosalyn.”

He leaves with her and for a couple minutes Fenton sits with Launchpad, “Who knew Mr. Dee knew so much about injuries!”

Fenton just nods, feeling useless.

Donald comes back in without Gosalyn, “Alright let’s get started.”

“Where’s Gos?”

“In my car.”

“Alone?”

“No.”

Fenton nods, trusting his boyfriend. The next few hours are painful and long. As Donald warned there was screaming, and Launchpad had the unfortunate job of holding his friend down while the duck worked.

By the time DW’s wounds are sewed up and wrapped they are all exhausted.

Donald goes to get Gosalyn a couple minutes after he washes up and throws out the bloody towels and dumps the dirty water down the drain, leaving no trace of what happened while she was gone except for the white bandages around DW’s gash and a blanket thrown over his legs.

The girl immediately goes to her father’s side.

“The boys’ room is empty if you want to sleep there.” Donald tells Launchpad.

“I think we’ll sleep out here.” Donald nods and pulls out pillows and blankets in response. Launchpad and Gosalyn settle down as close to the couch as they can get.

“Fenton?” The hero startles at his boyfriend’s call, “You have to sleep on a bed.”

He nods, exhausted and half asleep. Donald comes over and helps him up, “Where to? My bed or the boys’?”

“Can I sleep with you?” Fenton sinks into his lover’s hold

“I don’t want to make your ribs worse.” Donald objects and helps him down the hall to his bedroom.

“I don’t want to be alone.” Fenton confesses, DW’s screams are still echoing in his skull.

“Okay.” He sets Fenton down on his bed and takes off the hero’s shoes. Fenton is just awake enough to see Donald pull a chair over and feel the father’s hand close around one of his.

“Thanks.”

“Sorry.”

“For what?” The apology makes him force his eyes back open, what is there to apologize for?

“That you had to listen to that.”

“You saved us.” Fenton argues, “You saved me.”

“I didn’t save-“ Fenton interrupts him by squeezing his hand, “You did, I didn’t know where else to go. You didn’t have to help us.”

He falls asleep after that, feeling as though the conversation is over. He doesn’t hear Donald whisper, “Oh Fenton, I did. More than you know.”

…

+1

The houseboat is a literal wreck.

The boat is out of the pool and separated in two halves that can hardly be called halves. Chunks of the boat are gone and scattered around the pool deck in pieces of wood in varying sizes and it looks as though a single touch will shatter what’s left. The deck sports multiple craters and the couch is across the deck in one of them. The washing and drying machines are in pieces not far from it. The fridge door hangs open and food and leftovers are splattered all over the living room and on the deck. It was as if someone had picked up the houseboat and slammed it repeatedly into the ground without a care for what was inside.

He got the call from DW of all people and he had expected many things, but this was not one of them.

His hands shake as picks up a black and white hat lying between the two halves of the boat. There’s no mistaking it, it’s Donald’s.

“-and then we’ll - Hey, Gizmo, are you listening?” DW shouts from the huddle he’s formed with Gos and LP.

“DW, maybe you should give him a minute, he and Mr. Dee are close.”

Donald never went anywhere without his hat.

“The faster he pulls himself together, the faster we can figure out what happened!”

“But didn’t the agent say it was aliens?”

“Aliens aren’t real LP.”

The suit picks up a noise under the right half of the boat. He looks over and he can see the beginnings of a crater through the splintered wood. He shoves his hands under the wreckage and picks it up carefully.

“What are you doing?!” DW shouts, angered at the damage he’s doing to the crime scene and runs over, LP and Gos behind him.

“Dad, look!” Gos cries

“Oh crap, LP give me a hand with this.” The two ducks slide under what little he’s lifted and into the crater. They come back out with a body covered in black. “That’s – That’s – “ DW stutters, shocked.

Fenton puts the boat back down and spins on his wheel to see who or what they brought out.

“That’s PK!” DW exclaims the same time Gosalyn cheers, “That’s Mr. Duck!”

The duck groans and his eyes flutter open. Fenton knows those eyes. He knows that grin.

“Hey, you came back, are you going to stay for breakfast this time?” Donald’s words slur together into something nearly impossible for them to understand. His pupils aren’t the same size.

“Donald?” Fenton throws himself down beside his boyfriend and tosses his helmet aside, “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Fenton, mi amor. You missed it, fight’s over, but it was awesome! You should have been there.” Donald grins at him and then his expression shifts to one of confusion, “Yes?”

“Yes…what?” Fenton grabs ahold of Donald’s hand, worried over his lover’s odd behavior. DW is checking him for injuries.

“No, I’m fine - just a headache is all.”

“Concussion.” DW declares.

“Fenton? What happened? Why am I on the floor?”

“He’s going to be like this for a while. We’ll have to take him to a hospital if his headache gets worse, but for now he’s probably going to be fine.” DW reassures.

“Probably?!” Fenton panics.

“Hey, you didn’t stay for breakfast, that was very rude.” Donald points a finger at DW accusingly. He notices Gosalyn next to him, “Hi Gosalyn, did you like my car?”

“Yes Mr. Duck.” She giggles.

“Oh, that’s good, One can be…” Donald lowers his voice and whispers loudly, “…high maintenance.”

“I am not!” A voice comes out of the gauntlet on his right arm, next to DW.

“Oh crap, he heard me! Run child, run! Save yourself!” Donald laughs.

“Who is that?” DW demands

“You didn’t stay for breakfast. You know that’s rude, right?” Donald’s mood takes an immediate turn when his attention is drawn back to DW.

Darkwing Duck throws his hands up in defeat.

“Why am I on the floor? Fenton? Did you save me?”

“Yep! We would have never found you without him!” Launchpad cheerfully answers.

“No, I just –“ He protests, but Donald gets there before he can.

“So, it’s my turn to thank you.”

“What? No, I didn’t – “ He tries.

“Thanks.”

Fenton deflates and brings his head to Donald’s chest, wrapping an arm around him, “I’m sorry. I should have gotten here sooner, I should have been with you when they came, I should have…I’m so sorry.”

“Fenton? Why are you sad? Why am I on the floor?”

He can’t help the sad laugh that comes out, “You got hurt mi alma, you need to rest.”

“Oh, okay.”

He helps his boyfriend up and has to stifle a horrified gasp when he sees the bloodstained feathers on the back of his head. “I changed my mind,” DW stares at the puddle of blood left on the ground, “I think we should take him to a hospital.”

Donald is patched up by the time Scrooge and the kids get back from the Alps. DW assured Fenton that SHUSH would handle the houseboat and he just has to have faith in his friend, because Fenton never leaves Donald’s side to go check. He can’t get the image of his boyfriend’s blood on the concrete out of his head.

“I knew you’d find me.” Donald says when he’s finally recovered enough to remember what happened. His head is wrapped neatly the white of the bandages blending into the white of his feathers. He’s lying in his room in McDuck Mansion, “The boat was supposed to collapse on top of me…I guess the Evronians figured it’d be some kind of poetic justice, there’s always something new with them, but I knew you’d save me.”

“You’ve saved my life so many times, I figured it was time to repay the favor.” Fenton half jokes.

Donald gives him a blinding smile.

He loves that smile.


End file.
